Midnight Angels
by 76percentorganic
Summary: Change will be your ultimatum, my children. In the dark, perfection is lost and gained in different facets. The living dead are among us. And can it be that they have truly begun to live, while we are dead with mortality? Ancient legends thirst, children.
1. Alterations

**Chapter One;**

_Alterations_

* * *

The steady, drumming noise of the droplets of rain against the glass of the car's window was a just example of the horrible weather. As for the weather, well, that was just a fine showing of how even the heavens were weeping with bereavement that I should be forced into this.

"Honey bee," My father began desperately, for what very well could have been the thousandth time (no exaggerations, my friends), adding on the childhood nickname he had given me, like _that_ could make this all better. "You know I'm sorry that I wouldn't let you drive yourself in your new car."

My eyes rolled instinctively, diehard teenager habits kicking in. He hadn't let me drive because he'd thought I'd run away from our currently moving home—ah, the migrating domicile, how awful it was, especially while I was in the middle of my junior year in high school—he'd decided to just up and move us. But, no…this wasn't what had triggered my vindictive female wrath (the worst kind, so swears my father and brother). Well, at least the _former_ wasn't.

"It's not about the _car_, dad. You know what it is."

"Come on, now. I thought it was a fair trade. You got that pretty new Mini Cooper convertible."

"Oh, yeah, a really fair trade there, dad. One sunny, formerly _happy_ day, I come bounding inside to tell you that TenTen had scored tickets for a band I've been wanting to see for _ages_, and then I get a 'Oh, Honey Bee, guess what?', and then wouldn't you know it—we're moving!" I stated brusquely.

"I see…" He said, trailing off, eyes mirroring his self-acclaimed 'epiphany'. "That's what it is. You know, Honey bee, with my new work position I can get you those tickets easily, and we can even try to get TenTen up here. I just knew it had to be something like that."

I let out an annoyed sigh, though it came out more like a growl, than anything. "No, you just don't understand."

This must have come as a shock to my father. He, who had taken the role of both parents ever since my mother had met her premature demise (minus the cooking and cleaning, of course, heaven forbid a man should do something, quote, 'unmanly'!), who had read an endless void of parenting books (60 of them on 'how to understand you child'), and who had also went to the extent of taking my friends and I on five hour long shopping trips.

Really, could I have no pity upon his lonely soul? Ahhh…I guess, no? Bad, baaadddd me.

"Sakura, I'm sorry about this. But it's nothing I can control, alright? My boss promoted me, with a higher pay and everything, I couldn't just say no. That is, without getting fired." Dad stated, glancing at me out of the corners of his eyes. I hated it when he got this firm and decisive tone, this 'this is way it must be' way of affirming things.

To this, I said nothing, biting back any response that might trigger a sting to his pride, or further distance myself a few inches from him.

It would, no doubt, be a long and suffocating car ride to our new home.

* * *

"The floors are _soooo_ creaky," I stated, testing another board on the large wrap-around porch before me— just in case I fell through into a pit cluttered with skeletons and rats and such. You know, the usual reaction and expectations a new home owner has.

I was currently conveying my audacious situation to my close friend TenTen, via the wire we refer to as a '_cell phone_'. Thank the Big Guy in the Sky.

"_Aw…really? I'm sorry you got stuck with such a sucky house."_

I nodded in appreciation to her words—then, realizing she (being thousands of miles away) could not see this fine motion of my head, was thus vaguely embarrassed and feeling slightly foolish, and decided it was best to, well, you know…_speak_.

"Yeah, it's this really sallow white color; the paint job is chipping everywhere, there are about a gazillion and _two_ cobwebs hanging from the corners and beams, and then there's this half-dead tree through the porch and roof."

"_It even has a __tree__ growing through it? My gosh, that's not safe at all!"_

I furrowed my brow and bit my lip, looking the sad excuse for a tree up and down. "No…um, I think it's _supposed _to be here. Hmm, strange. But anyways, yeah, there are these really discolored shutters that look like that could have been yellow at some point in the middle ages. With weird phases of the moon on them and everything. Let the records show that I am also fearful that the shingles and roof alike will come toppling down and crush me like a bug."

"_Creepy. Oh, crap, I have to take Merlin out for a walk. I'll talk to you later, alright, Sakura? Peace out!"_

"If I can _survive_ that long, that is." I commented bitterly, but then managed a smile. "Okay, give Merlin an extra treat for me, okay?" I asked, and then hung up the phone, smile sustained.

TenTen had the oddest maternal bone (instinct, mindset, whatever floats your boats, kids) for her pet Merlin. She felt the incontrovertible desire and need to walk him at exactly six a.m. and six p.m., on the dot, each and every day. Mind you, this Merlin was a _turtle_, and _she _thought her 'child' should get a healthy dose of exercise. This dose consisting of the length of three blocks. This was a hefty length for a creature infamous for its slow movements.

At least it wasn't a snail. Or a sloth. ….Positively super duper that she'd wanted a turtle for her fifteenth birthday! At least she hadn't named him 'Speedy'.

"Honey bee, I'm going to go the supermarket to get some groceries."

I turned on my heel, only slightly wavering as the wood beneath cried out with screeching protests. "Don't you still have to get the fridge and everything? Oh, and you know, electricity?"

"The company already took care of that, Honey bee." Oh my, was that _exasperation _I caught? "I'll be back in an hour or so, take a look inside, get a feel of the place. Tomorrow morning your car should be back, just in time for you to get to school on your own—I mean after all, you probably don't want your dear old dad to drive you."

"Alright, whateve-" I backtracked on myself while still speaking, not so gracefully whirling around and down the rickety steps, arms folded tactfully against my chest. I asked incredulously, "_School?_"

My father had gotten halfway into his car, motor running and all. He rolled down the window (far more apt to do that then to step _around_ the door and face me without some sort of barrier to keep away any object that might _somehow_ be thrown at him, the scaredy cat).

"Yes, what did you think? I was just going to let my daughter cavort around and get no education? You're a funny one, Honey bee." He stated mirthlessly, jumping into the car and pulling out of the lengthy dirt driveway.

I watched him until he disappeared behind the entangled branches of the budding flora—and was vaguely irked that our driveway was so concealed and prolonged, making it harder for me to stare daggers at my parental figure.

A cold breeze blew, and I was forced to drop my malevolent glower (which was pointlessly aimed at a tree—one which seemed to pale as each millisecond passed, might I add…SHUSH, trees can be frightened too, you know!). I shrugged my winter jacket over my shoulders and zipped it, pulling the hood up and over my head, enjoying the faux fur as it tickled my cheeks. Yes, even in early April I needed this fluffy, nice and warm heat container.

I recalled his words, to 'take a look inside, and get a feel of the place'. His advice didn't rest so well me, I could get a perfectly adequate 'feel' of it all from outside the creepy-maybe-haunted-question mark house.

I was far more tempted to venture down into the mammoth sized lawn of ours on the other side of our…um, new house. I had gotten a glimpse of it when testing out the boards and sliding my boxes of worldly items in grudgingly. The fact I'd choose that option was saying something, seeing as how the mediocre amount of rain that had fallen had made everything all mucky and slimy, the air was dense with intangible humidity.

Then something caught my eye. In the mid-afternoon light, and as yet another zephyr blew, the shift of air caused some object to sway, catching the shafts of light and playing on my viridian eyes.

Mesmerized like the sometimes sophomoric teenager I was, and intrigued with the fanciful thoughts that there might be something _special_ about that glittering thing, I meandered around the house and into the yard, making a b-line for the specific tree I had noticed it in. Or, at least, I _think_ it was the right tree.

Gosh darn it, why did they all have to look so similar?

I gave the tree a once over, arching an eyebrow at what could have possibly possessed me to actually want to willingly do this. But it was far too late for that, of course.

I wrapped my arms around the tree's thick trunk, lifting my legs up and balancing my weight—I didn't enjoy the feel of it one bit, the bark was mossy and moist. But still, I scrambled vertically, fighting to do the impossible of defying the gravity that pulled down my mass like a magnet to a fridge.

Stupid magnet-ish body, stupid fridge-like earth.

Finally, minutes later my hand found a branch. I took a few frugal pulls on it, as many as I could spare as I tried to stay levitated via tree, and when I was finally self-assured that it was indeed (maybe, hopefully?) sturdy, I lifted myself upwards with a grunt, swinging my legs over, my body following suit quickly.

After that, it was just a tangle of limbs and…limbs? You know, limbs as in branches, and limbs as in appendages? Yeah, well, at least I don't have a little voice in my head to mock me and tell me how much my humor sucks.

And, other things, like one that tells me to kill people, and controls my mind…

Well, back to the Great Adventure to Find the Shiny Shiny Pretty Thing.

In other words, I was contemplating on whether or not this plan was thought out that well. I mean, it was a wild goose chase, practically, and just watch as it was a one time thing, a trick in the light. Great, I was hallucinating. I was hallucinatory and in a tree, at least as high above the ground as the second story of a building.

I glanced over to the house, using the lovely thing called perception to decipher yes, indeed, I was two stories up. But who knew? I could have just been hallucinating right _then_ too. Sighing with annoyance, I very cautiously straddled the bulky branch I was currently poised on, and leaned wearily against the wooden stem of the great oxygen-giving plant.

Leaning my head back, I watched a droplet of water slip gracefully down a twig on the tree, until it eventually and ultimately plopped daintily on my forehead. About to let a few color filled comments slip through my lips, I froze in mid-shift to stare pointedly at a glittering, swaying…thing.

Paradox was clearly on my side, wheee.

All I had to do was (shakily) get to my knees and extend my arm out as far as it could go; the scintillating object impressively dodged my digits with a gust of dramatic wind, successfully making me lean forward to get closer to it again.

Just a little closer, a _little_ closer…and then HA! I'd done it!

There was an ominous cracking below me as I tugged the USO (aka, unidentified swaying object) into my hands. Oh, yeah, I'd done it all right. I had but a second to allow a horrified expression slip onto my visage, before the branch gave way beneath me and I found myself feeling gravity giving me a not so friendly hug back to the ground.

From there on out, I was grappling at nothing but air, vainly trying to redeem myself from the over all end of, well, me. Salvation came to me in the form of my left side smacking against a branch that remained relentlessly intact—hard. By some odd, and unknown reason I twisted around, and found myself landing on my stomach on yet _another_ branch (joy be unto me), safe for the time I remained there, in my painful place.

I remained draped over the branch, my air knocked out of me, and a multitude of fiery pangs shooting around my body like a bunch of electric currents. As I mustered the means together to get my lungs and various other breathing related tubes and ligaments functioning properly once more, I spared a glance down to see how far I'd fallen, and how close I'd coming to a precipitate passing.

Not even five branches down; there was the base of the tree, and then the solid ground. My lips parted to let out a weary sigh of relief, though even if one had come out, it was indistinguishable.

Deciding that I wouldn't risk another endeavor of the falling kind, I began to carefully lower myself down the branches. My breath was staggered and raspy, like it had to go through multiple filters before it could reach the final destination of my lungs, and it felt as though every muscles in my body was twitching. Even my heart must have even have been twitching—that would have explained the pain.

Or, of course, it could have been something _else entirely_—but why take any more qualms onto my already full plate?

When my feet landed upon the ground, I did all but kiss the mucky dirt and lay there in an ecstatic stupor. A sharp spasm shot through my arm at a time that couldn't have been planned any better. My face contorted into a grimace, it was ridiculous how by just lifting my arm up to inspect it, my nerves and muscles sent lightning fast messages of terrible aches to my brain.

Overrated flesh wounds.

A twinkle of something in my hand caught my eye. Oh, yeah, the thing I pulled from the tree. Cradling my sore left arm as best I could to my side, I turned my attention to the object at (or rather, _in_) hand.

It was, well, pretty. It consisted of a slightly lengthy chain, the metallic look showing vague signs of rust and disintegration from wear and time on only the occasionally link—playing the role as the most prominent piece of it all, a stone hung in the center. It could have passed as a semi-precious stone, cut mostly in rectangular shape with the occasional asymmetrical facet here and there. The base color of the strange ornament was a teal of the darkest hue, though when the light hit its surface, the over all appeal of a luminescent rainbow sheen dancing within would play for the eye.

Turning it about in my hand, I attempted to try and identify what it could possibly be. But of course, no matter how much I ransacked the files in my psyche, I fell short in the department of answers

Not like I could have mulled over the type of stone, anyways, because I could hear my dear father's car tires going over the rough gravel of our driveway, not at all surprised that this unexpected 'adventure' had occupied my time. Tucking the necklace into my pocket, I rubbed my left arm (wincing while I did so), and then jogged sorely over to the porch and up, slipping inside the house—all before he'd even completely pulled in and parked.

Hey, who said I couldn't act like I was completely in love with the place because, heck _yes_, that whole hour (or however long), I'd totally been checking out this creepy old new-to-us house. _Right_.

* * *

**A/N: **Yo, my new readers. c;

How was this to start out a story? Perked any of your interests? Well I hope _so_!

Far better actions, controversy, and over all wacky-crazy-awesome fun shall took place in the following chapters. All good things come to those who wait. Nyah hah. :p Six pages worth of writing. Wheeeee (note: click 'next' as soon as possible. ;D)


	2. Investiture

**Chapter Two;**

_Investiture_

* * *

My gaze was the definition of a whole new level of disdain. The bruise had grown significantly, like some sort of plant beast. I furrowed my brow, poking it gently to make sure it wasn't actually alive, and that it didn't have a mind of its own.

There was a message of pain, and that was all. No growl, no roar, no hiss. Just good 'ole fashioned P-A-I-N—_pain_.

The contusion started only barely an inch below my shoulder, and finally decided to end three inches before my elbow began. An expression of disgust replaced the one of condescension—there went my plan to frolic over to the new school in that sleeveless shirt I'd just recently bought (and simply adored, because it flattered me like no other).

Letting out a sigh, I shuffled over to one of my many boxes (I'd stubbornly refused to unpack all the way), pulling out a long-sleeved, pallid rose shirt, the one with the butterfly and chrysanthemums stitched in dark crimson red thread towards the bottom. Diffidently, I tugged it on over my torso, and looked at myself once more in the full-length mirror. Skinny jeans, mediocre shirt, my pink (yes, 99.99% legitimate) hair brushed out and laying loosely against my mid-back—so on and so forth.

As I began to rush from my room (as I had absolutely no inkling what time their school started…along with a various assortment of other things, which was creating the black hole inside me, sucking away all my security and self-assurance), my mind suddenly flew to the newly found detail I'd failed to remember—and with unmatched grace I twirled around, almost slipping and falling until I caught myself with the frame of the door. My eyes danced to the formerly forgotten and neglected item.

The necklace.

Plucking it up from my mahogany nightstand, I slid it over my head, feeling it rest perfectly at the center of my chest. It worked fine with the outfit, and was an acceptable accent to my eyes. I looked as good as I could ever get, I suppose.

Unenthusiastically, I hauled myself down the stairs, through the diminutive vestibule, and into our kitchen. A bright neon blue sticky note that was precariously attached to the marble-white fridge caught my eye.

'_Hey Honey bee, I'm already gone for work. There's some cereal and stuff in the kitchen for your breakfast, be sure to hurry and get ready for your first day at Cherry Creek High School! It starts at 8:30 a.m.; the directions are on the table. Have a great day!'_

My left eye twitched uncontrollably for a millisecond. The fact that my new school's name had anything remotely similar to my own calling was something that only a cruel, ironic providence could have spun. What glorious luck have I.

Sighing, I pulled out a bowl, a spoon, the milk, and the box of delicious and not quite nutritious Lucky Charms. I haphazardly prepared it, and followed suit by eating my breakfast at the speed of light, in an equally slapdash manner.

Minutes passed, and an empty dish and inanimate spoon in the sink were the only signs that I had consumed any meal at all as I rushed out the door, snatching up my keys from the small table beside the exit way.

Absentmindedly, I locked the door—slipping the extra key back underneath the welcome mat—and turned on heel to stride (carefully and cautiously) off the porch.

There sat my newly adopted baby, rosette and glistening in all its automobile glory. It was a shiny and oddly high-class object in such a relaxed, country setting. I sat in the plush seat for a moment, closing the door and putting the key in the ignition—I was taking in that "new car feeling" that all those commercial gabbed about.

It was nice, but not as great as they made it out to be.

When I turned the car on, I was immediately assaulted by the radio, blasting at the top of its speakers, playing some gangster hip-hop. Jumping a few inches from my seat, I reached out sporadically and pushed the minus button down, eventually bringing silence back in to the small quarters.

Sighing, I pulled my car around and rode down the long, forest-mobbed driveway and onto the cracking road. Really, I should have taken this bad start in my morning as a far more ominous sign.

* * *

The school's building was a lot larger than I'd expected. It wasn't so much bigger in height or anything, as it was sprawled out, with building lining up like big guards on patrol. Or prisons. Whatever way you chose to look at it.

No other students were out in the parking lot, or even on the sidewalks that led into the school. This was a bad sign, because it either meant that the entire school was being held hostage at some unknown location and I was the lucky survivor, or else I was late. The latter seemed far more believable, while it was more unsettling.

After I'd circled around the lot a few more times—only making my situation worst and prolonging a heart attack—I pulled into a parking space and turned off the little car, reluctantly glaring at the handle of the door.

I could do this, I _had_ to do this. There was no way I could skip school and just drive off, maybe get some ice cream, go see a movie…

No, definitely couldn't do any of that. It was sort of against my moral code. I had to treat this as though I were doing a kidney transplant, and the recipient was some cute little six year-old boy who was being raised on a farm and had a dream of being a big football player when he grew up. I had to rip it off like a bad band-aid and just get it over with, no matter how it stuck to me.

On the count of three, I tried to be brave and whip open the door. Unfortunately, I'd misjudged the distance between my car and the next one over, and almost let out a little yelp when I had to lunge after it to keep it from ramming into its neighbor. The already very small amount of courage withered into a gray leaf as I timidly pulled my bag onto my arm and scurried toward the entrance.

Yes, I was definitely late. The hallway that seemed to stretch on forever was like the dusty road to a slaughtered ghost town, and I was the wandering rogue who happened to come across the haunting place. To the right, I could feel someone watching me.

A middle-aged woman peered up and out at me from behind a window, a big "Office" plaque hanging overhead. I felt a little relieved, and I walked hastily over to her like some little lost sheep might do with a Shepard.

"Umm, hello," I began, adjusting my bag and straightening my clothes, trying not to look as insane and ridiculous as I felt, "I guess I'm a little late. It's my first day at this school, and I didn't really know what time it started so, yeah, sorry…"

I was generously given a sympathetic smile. "Can you give me you name, dear? As well as your grade?"

"Haruno Sakura, and I'm a…junior." I fidgeted beneath her knowing eyes, licking my lips as she turned to punch her fingers methodically into the keyboard and scan the screen. While she was busy, I took the opportunity to slyly look around, worrying immediately about my complete lack of direction, and wondering how many times I'd get lost in this place.

The woman gave an affirmative little nod of the head and placed a finger to the computer, running it along what was probably a section listing a summary of me. "Yes, you're right here. Transferring in the middle of the year, are we? Hmm…well, you're not terribly late to your first class. I'll have to write you an excuse…not like your teacher wouldn't understand. Would you like me to print out a page with your classes on them?"

"It…couldn't hurt. I might lose my other copy sometime today; it'd be nice to have a backup." I admitted, feeling a little apprehensive at the rather nosy way she seemed to be scrutinizing my information. It took her only a second or so to print the paper out, and I took both it and the pass thankfully. I looked down at the paper, apprehensive.

Oh, right, I had a History class as my first hour. Goodie for me.

"Thank you," I said with a smile, turning to the left and beginning to walk off.

"Sakura, both the junior lockers and your classroom are over there," She called after me, and was no doubt pointing in the opposite direction of where I was heading. A little embarrassed, I walked backwards one or two steps before wheeling around and moving towards my corrected destination, nodding my head and smiling weakly in gratitude.

As I passed some classrooms, I sort of felt like a little mouse hurrying alongside the shadowed walls, taking sidelong glances at the rooms to see the people in there, getting a halfhearted take on my surroundings.

Running my hand along the lockers, I counted the numbers on them until reaching 309. It took roughly three tries to get my locker combination to work properly, which made me feel like hours had gone by, that the bell would ring any moment, and that I'd never get to class.

Shoving my bag into the close quarters—scarcely remembering to bring the pass, a notebook and a pencil—I looked back down to the list to find the number of the room. Luckily, it was only a little farther down the hall, to the left. That is, if I understood the numbering system correctly.

Pressing my assortment of papers and what not to my chest, I tentatively closed my locker. Within the short time I'd been with it, I already felt like it was my home away from home, which was ridiculous, because I couldn't stuff myself in there and hide no matter how much I wanted to.

I didn't like the lonely sound of only my shoes reflecting against the walls, and my jeans rustling against each other every so often. There were pieces of artwork places up for display, and a few in particular especially caught my attention, but I didn't have any time to gawk. I'd definitely come back at a later time, though.

My heart was hammering in my throat as I touched the handle to my English 11 classroom. A treacherous little voice in me whispered that I still had time to get out of there. No one had really seen me, I hadn't embarrassed myself in front of my peers yet, I was golden.

Unfortunately, I'd already tugged the handle down, and opened it a crack. Like any other classroom filled with teenagers tired of the same old same old, students closer to the door were already starting to take a peek in my direction. Unlike the teacher, who remained in his very lax position.

Resisting the urge to mess around with my appearance, I boldly walked in, trying to keep my posture vertical and my expression light and welcoming. Already, I could feel the others in the room beginning to notice me one by one, stares prying at me, inspecting me. Curious like a bunch of monkeys.

"Excuse me, um, Mr. Sarutobi…?" I asked, praying desperately that I got his name right and that this was the correct classroom. It felt a little too carefree to be a learning environment.

His eyelids were half-closed, like he was dozing or something. Eventually, one mahogany eye was pried open, rolling slowly over to look at me. A slow smirk curled onto his lips like a wispy cloud, faint and probably not meant to last.

"Ahh, you're the new girl, am I right? The main office told me I'd have a novel arrival. Lucky for you this class isn't full, or else you'd have to stand up until we could adjust the seating arrangement." He chuckled, even though I couldn't find anything humorous about it at all. Mentally shrugging, and wanting to get this rocky "first day" over with, I offered him the slip. He took it and, without even looking at it to make sure it was legit, crumpled it up and tossed it into a trash. I was still a little confused about his personality when he half pointed, half flicked his right hand towards the seats. "Choose anywhere you want, Miss…Haruno, right?"

I nodded, but inside felt a little wave of rage and irritation. Letting _me_ choose where I got to sit? _Me_? The newcomer? The one who had no clue which people were the nice and helpful ones, which were the scary school-shooter types? I hoped that my other teachers would be a little more dominating and choose a seat for me.

As I walked between the taken seats, the stares were becoming a little more painful, and I could hear them whispering. There were a few people who were polite and only watched me every now and then, and there were those who at least had enough kindness not to turn around to continue to make a spectacle of me. But still…

It felt like I was on death row, or something.

Freaking out a little, I slid into a seat, not even looking at my desk partner. I kept my belongings in my lap and ran my fingers through my planner, as though I were looking for something _very_ important.

"Alright, alright, get back to work. If you guys finish, I'll figure out some special to reward you with," Sarutobi stated easily, tone not at all matching the usual stern one a teacher might use when reprimanding his class to get back to their studies. Slowly, they turned back to their books. It was like I was some woodland fairy that everyone wanted to take a poke at to see if I was actually real. I was already exhausted, and the day wasn't even half over yet.

"Hey…" A soft call came from in front of me. I ignored it, hoping—yes, I'll admit, frantically—that it wasn't directed towards me. I might accidentally scream if I opened my mouth.

It came again, less gentle, more demanding and boisterous. "Hey, you…_hello~_?"

Trying not to glare daggers, I looked up beneath my lashes, blinking once or twice. I raised my head up to look at him straight on, a neon bright smile playing on his face when he realized he'd gotten my attention. When he opened his eyes—because they'd been closed in his odd amount of bliss—I was a little taken aback at the rather intense blue gaze that met mine.

Delicately clearing my throat, I breathed through my nose and tried to look confident. "…What?"

"Do you like this place so far…ehh, what's your name? I'm Uzumaki Naruto, number one of this school!" He paraded, that brilliantly confident (or rather, _over_confident) Cheshire grin still mesmerizing on his face. I could feel my trust on his character and intellect falling, though, at the redundant question and state of mind.

"It's…fine so far, I just got here a few minutes ago though, so I haven't really gotten to see the whole place. My name's Sakura," I replied, trying to be cordial and open, even though I was already assuming this conversation was pointless.

"Oh, really…? Then I guess I'll have to show you around then, huh? I can't leave you to fend for yourself in this den of lions… Hey," Naruto trailed off, glancing down towards my shirt. A little disgusted—because I thought he was looking at my chest—I crossed my arms quickly. But his next question surprised me; there was a vaguely serious tone underneath. "Where'd you get that necklace?"

"I, well…I found it at my house…" My head tilted a bit to the side, not sure how to approach this suddenly quite in depth discussion. It was quiet, for just a moment. I could hear my new desk partner shift papers around.

"That's cool, that's cool," The blonde said happily, suppressing a yawn. "You chose a good desk to sit at. I'm sure you'll be able to get help if you're ever troubled by an assignment. Right, Hinata?" He turned his head towards the person sitting next to me. Hesitantly, I did the same.

A quaint girl sat twiddling her fingers, her eyes widening a fraction as she was spoken to. "U-Um…yes, of course I can…um, help. Don't be afraid to…a-ask any questions…" She had a nice soft voice, and seemed to be a very quiet person; even her clothes were neutral and darker. As if she meant to be hidden. Unlike this Naruto person, who wore a rather shocking orange t-shirt.

I smiled appreciatively, "Thank you. That's really nice."

A thin veil of pink colored the girl's face as blood rushed to her cheeks. She stuttered a bit, but it all came out as mumbling beneath her breath, so she began to furiously write in her notebook, mod bangs covering her eyes. Her irises were a strange crème of sorts…not like I had any right to be the judge of normal, seeing as how I had pink hair.

Already, Naruto's attention was back on me. It was a little strange, but I felt as though I was already getting used to it.

He was opening his mouth to say something when, quite suddenly, an eraser was thrown at his head. Wincing, Naruto turned around to see who'd thrown it, only to grin sheepishly when he saw Sarutobi's arm still lowering after catapulting the object at his mischievous pupil's head. "Uzumaki, leave Haruno alone. She needs to last at least until lunchtime without getting a seizure from looking at your shirt."

I smiled a little, overcoming the wariness of his unorthodox teaching methods. I might have laughed, as well, if I'd known the people and milieu better. Naruto was muttering about the fact that "he couldn't fully comprehend the awesome-ness of his shirt" and etcetera.

I snuck a peep at the clock, only to wish I hadn't. I still had a while to go before this class was over. I brought a pencil to my lips and pressed into it softly, wondering if I'd meet some more interesting people…and if the school's clocks were all broken. It would have been nice if they were.

I also took a moment to curse my morals.

* * *

**A/N:** I've been in a Naruto mood lately. Hoorah. :)

I keep coming up with all these idea, but I never follow through. How awful am I? SUPER AWFUL. Weeep. I really need to get all my stories up and running, AND, I need some constructive criticism and reviews.

Word up to your mothers, yo. ;)


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